


in faith

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [85]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: crowley looks after his needy angel
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [85]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	in faith

aziraphale parts his legs. he's pink and flushed at his center, with wet heat curling in his cunt. his thighs are already dampened, slick at the highest peaks. crowley has to wonder how fiercely he's been crossing his legs, _squeezing_ them together for that to happen. perhaps in an effort at containing himself, or perhaps - _perhaps_ seeking out pressure. _friction._ dear god, crowley wants to take him right now.

"you don't - " aziraphale pants, too distracted to even breathe in any sort of sensible fashion. "you don't _have_ to help, if you don't want to."

crowley's grin spikes sharp with quirking teeth. he smiles wider, and hovers over aziraphale, feeling particularly predatory. the bed creaks with each little increment of motion, and he considers it a resounding ceremony to applaud what he's about to do.

"oh, but _angel,_ " he murmurs, low and grainy. "of _course_ i do. how could i not? you look like a fucking meal like this. and i'm ssstarving."

aziraphale, despite his poorly state, manages a giggle. "that's cliché, don't you think?"

crowley's tongue threads over his neck. it's thin and angled, and makes aziraphale shiver. "not as cliché as you are, begging to be fucked, spreading yourself out like an animal in heat."

aziraphale gasps, rutting his hips up, grinding himself against the grating denim of crowley's jeans. he can feel his bulge, even through the tight cloth, and it's already tempting enough to have his clit throbbing, his cunt hot.

"please," he inhales. " _please._ "

"what do you want, angel? you'll have to tell me."

"please," aziraphale gathers himself. "use me. i want to give myself over to you. to service your needs, so to speak."

crowley's tongue thickens in his mouth, and his throat goes dry. "of course, angel."

he nearly tears himself out of his jeans, falling upon aziraphale within sparse seconds. it's clumsy and uncoordinated, a discombobulated process. but aziraphale's hands weave upwards to soothe the knot between crowley's shoulder blades. fingers pressing gentle affections into his aching tension. oh, it feels so _good._ so nice. he wants to be held like this forever. wants to feel aziraphale - _use_ him, just as he'd asked for.

"i love you," he says, slotting the head of his cock between aziraphale's puffy labia. "thank you, thank you, thank you."

aziraphale keens softly, rolling his head to the side, his brow wrinkling as crowley spreads him open. his muscles stretching, burning in the sweetest way. a delightful, tingling sting. crowley rocks into him slowly, hesitant to a fault. it's endearing, it's enough to enamor aziraphale completely, but _not_ quite enough to ravish him as he desires.

"please, dearest." he gasps, rutting his hips down in stuttery, uneven order. "please, take what you need from me. i want to be degraded, _defiled._ make me resplendent with shame, my love." 

and crowley obeys. gripping at his lovehandles, moving aziraphale down over him. he's rough, overbearing, and overall entirely unsympathetic to any agonies aziraphale might be enduring at the price of crowley's cheap pleasure. that's what he'd wanted, wasn't it? to be made into something worth less than momentary satisfaction. fucked into like a toy, more object than he is angel.

"please," aziraphale whimpers, starting to lose himself. "it hurts."

crowley knows him, knows all the wicked little likings he's gathered over the years. and he knows, most of all, that _it hurts_ comes nothing close to _please stop._ it's not their safeword. it's not even a warning - it's _gratitude._ and a hope at tempting crowley into further manhandling, stroking some diabolically driven need to take without refrain. 

so he gives in, satiating aziraphale once more. "doesn't seem like you're having any trouble taking it, angel. what's one more cock for a used tart like you, anyways?"

aziraphale flinches at the words in such beautiful, theatric display, it's hard to believe he isn't playing this up somewhat. perhaps for crowley's enjoyment too, then.

"n-no, i've never - " each syllable struggles to catch itself on the stairlike climbing of his frantic breath. "i've never had anyone. not before you."

crowley barely siphons off a snort - _that's_ the best fib aziraphale's come up with all night. a blatant, unashamed lie, with the angel looking proud of himself for it.

"should've known, you're tight as a doll." crowley grits through his teeth. "come on, darling. i want to feel you cum around me. and i haven't got all day."

aziraphale gives him what he wants, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. his lips part, struck in a permanent pout, and he cries, he _cries._ sweet to the heavens above. crowley's cock tears him open, bustling a concave in his warmth, his milky softness. aziraphale doesn't let go of him the whole while, sniffling with tears lining up on his jaw, having made their journey across his cheeks, and clinging onto his lover's shoulder blades.

all it takes is a touch to the face, and a whisper of " _treat me gently,_ " for crowley to cum wildly inside him. bucking out sporadic, wet outbursts.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @enricks


End file.
